


The Absence of Salvation

by Writing_is_THORapy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (Very brief and very vague), Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jedi Indentured AU, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Planet Tatooine (Star Wars), Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Whipping, Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_is_THORapy/pseuds/Writing_is_THORapy
Summary: The Separatists had taken the Togruta to Tatooine.To theHutts.And not just any Hutt, butGardulla.Anakin understands whyher; they can’t exactly go to Jabba after kidnapping his son, butwhythey had done so in general is completely beyond him. There is nothing useful to be found on that dust bowl but that’s what the Seppies did and now he has to goback. Chancellor’s orders.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Shmi Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66
Collections: New SW Canon Server Works





	The Absence of Salvation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmeraldHeiress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/gifts).



> Hello everyone! I assure you, I am hard at work on the next chapter of [Dead-ception](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495769)—it’s just a rather complicated chapter (that I hope will live up to expectations!). 
> 
> If the tags make you uncomfortable and you don’t feel like you can read this, then that’s ok! (Maybe check out one of my other fics?) I will say this: _None of the rape/non-con that occurs is graphic or explicit_. That is _never_ something I would write. However, it _is_ still there, so…
> 
> I first found the “Indentured AU” prior to joining the wonderful New SW Canon Server but since joining have met some of the amazing folks behind the idea. So after a month or two of saying I would write something for it, I finally have! 
> 
> This work is dedicated to the fabulous [Emerald Heiress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress). Without their angst, I probably wouldn’t be publishing SW fanfiction at all! Though completely unintentional, I realized while brainstorming that this fic bears the slightest of resemblance to their work [Within Halls of Golden Rot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247406), which you all should _definitely_ check out.
> 
> Ok enough of my blabbing. I hope you all enjoy!

Anakin’s blood is on fire. 

He wants to scream, to cry, to rage.

The Separatists had taken the Togruta to Tatooine.

To the _Hutts_. 

And not just any Hutt, but _Gardulla_. 

Anakin understands why _her_ ; they can’t exactly go to Jabba after kidnapping his son, but _why_ they had done so in general is completely beyond him. There is nothing useful to be found on that dust bowl but that’s what the Seppies did and now he has to go _back_. Chancellor’s orders. 

Why is it that his chains feel heaviest when they aren’t even there? 

* * *

They stop on Coruscant prior to making the trip to Tatooine.

Anakin refuses to allow Ahsoka to go on this mission. 

He knows she wants to protest, wants to act in defense of her people, but the cost is far too high. 

He’s begged and bled and done _everything_ to make sure she was never Requested, to make sure she is _safe_ , and he’s not about to allow her to willingly put herself in that kind of situation.

“Master, our latest mission—”

“It is on Tatooine, is it not?”

“Yes, Master. And I don’t… I don’t want Ahsoka to be there. It’s not safe for her.”

Before the man even has to ask, Anakin prostrates himself before the Chancellor, feeling so, so ashamed. 

But he will endure all the humiliation and pain in the world if it means that Ahsoka is safe. 

“Please, Master. _Please_ don’t send Ahsoka. I-I beg of you.”

“Hm,” Palpatine hums, considering. “I think something can be arranged.” 

He breathes a silent sigh of relief. 

* * *

Anakin and Obi-Wan leave their sabers behind with Artoo, who is put with the other droids in Gardulla’s palace, but had been stripped of their tunics and belts, leaving them in nothing but their pants and boots. 

They had decided to masquerade as captured slaves— after all, the role came quite easily to them. 

Someone must have told the guards they were Force-sensitive, for Force-inhibiting manacles are quickly clamped around their wrists. 

Anakin already feels hollow. 

They are brought before Gardulla the Hutt, who stares down at them as if she is assessing whether they are worth keeping or if she would benefit more from selling them to the highest bidder. 

“Turn,” she says in Huttese. Two Gamorrean guards manhandle them to turn around while others point their weapons at them menacingly, daring them to disobey. 

Anakin knows what she’ll find and has to stop himself from flinching as her laugh echoes out across the throne room. 

“One of you has been here before, I see,” she chortles. “And some time ago, too. We stopped branding after clients complained about _damaged_ _products_.”

_Products_. He’s a _product._ Not a person, but a _product_ , and a damaged one at that.

“Turn,” she commands. Anakin and Obi-Wan comply before the guards step in. 

“What is your name, boy?” She asks.

“Skywalker,” he responds. He and Obi-Wan had discussed lying before, and while Obi-Wan had opted to go by a different name, Anakin had decided to keep his own. It felt… important. 

“A slave’s name,” she sneers. “You’re right where you belong.”

They’re escorted out and Anakin can’t help but think that she’s right. 

* * *

They implant a new chip in his neck.

They give him a local anesthetic, a small mercy that he knows is purely to make sure he doesn’t squirm and accidentally kill himself.

A small part of Anakin is very tempted to. It would be so _easy_. 

He remembers when the Jedi removed his first chip from his shoulder. He still has the scar. 

He has a feeling he’ll have plenty more after this mission.

* * *

Anakin is separated from Obi-Wan.

They ask him about his skills.

“I’m the greatest mechanic you’re ever gonna find,” he says, allowing his natural Outer Rim accent to come through.

Slaves are taught to be boastful but not proud; to know their worth and sell themselves even higher. 

_You are a tool and nothing more. Make sure you remain useful._

The overseers examine him and he feels like he’s on the auction block. 

“He’s too pretty to be kept hidden away in the shop,” one of them says to the other. 

Anakin wants to say something, _anything_ , to stay in the shop, to have free rein of whatever mechanical tools and materials are on-hand and build the key to their freedom.

“Put ‘im in the brothels.”

He wishes he’d burned his face as a child. 

* * *

Anakin is dressed in billowy, translucent pants that just barely preserve his dignity. 

They’re not as elaborate as what he’s used to. He’s not sure whether to feel grateful for this or not.

He’s shoved in a dingy, dank room and is relieved and crushed to see Obi-Wan there as well dressed in a similar manner.

He hates that the relief came first.

They embrace like it has been decades since they’d last seen each other. They allow themselves this comfort. 

* * *

“You must be Shmi Skywalker.”

“Yes,” she confirms, expression guarded. 

Obi-Wan exhales a shaky breath, delicately taking both of her calloused hands into his.

“I—” He cuts off suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to collect himself. Once he does, he meets her gaze, unwavering.

“ _I am so sorry._ ”

Then he tells her and every detail causes her heart to shatter anew. 

* * *

Anakin kneels before Gardulla, a position more familiar to him than standing. 

He feels as if he has come full circle, as if he never left.

And so on his knees he stays, where he belongs.

* * *

“M-mom?” He hates how his voice cracks and how tears gather in his eyes but it’s _her_ and she’s _here_ and suddenly he feels like a little boy again with sun-bleached hair running back to his mother’s welcoming arms after a hard day at Watto’s shop. 

“ _Ani?_ ” She sounds exactly the same and he wants to _sob_.

He can’t cry, can’t waste water, but allows himself the weakness of running into her arms, of being drawn into her warm and welcoming embrace.

“Oh my darling son, you’ve grown up,” she murmurs, running a hand through his hair. “But you’ve endured so much.”

“So have you, Mom.”

“I am sorry you have had to face so much pain, Ani. If I had known, I’d—”

“Mom,” Anakin loosens his embrace so that he can look her straight in the eye. “You couldn’t have possibly known. _They_ couldn’t have possibly known. Not every Jedi is… targeted. Like that.”

“Ani…”

He just wraps her in his arms. He doesn’t _want_ to talk about it, doesn’t want to talk about how weak he is. 

Is it so wrong to be a little selfish?

But at the same time, Anakin knows, he _knows_ , that he will not leave Tatooine until she is Free.

Even if he never is.

* * *

Anakin and Obi-Wan do their job.

Sure, they’re there on Jedi business and pass intel to the Jedi via Artoo when they can, but they know their true purpose. 

They are nothing but pretty little figurines adorning Gardulla’s throne room. Nothing but playthings to own and use and discard. Nothing but pets to be collared and paraded around.

A thin, female togruta with white and blue montrals so much like Ahsoka’s is dragged in front of Gardulla by two Gamorreans, a Twi’lek overseer leading the group. 

“This one was _misbehaving_ ,” he asserts. “We wished to request your council, oh great Gardulla.”

Gardulla derisively eyed the quivering Togruta before sniffing “whip her.”

The togruta doesn’t panic, doesn’t struggle or protest.

She just… goes limp, numbly accepting her punishment.

She must feel him looking at her, for she meets his gaze and her eyes are _dead_. 

He can’t allow this to happen. 

Obi-Wan must realize his intentions, for the intense look he sends Anakin’s way stops any plans he has of stepping in. 

So he watches, helpless and compliant, as two guards grip her arms while third comes up behind her, a whip gripped in his meaty hand.

He has to suppress a flinch at the crack of the whip as first strike lands. The togruta remains silent.

They whip her again.

And again.

And again.

She starts to scream in pain and Anakin has had enough. 

He jumps up, yelling, “stop!” but is violently yanked back by his chains. 

Everything stops. Everyone stares.

He stands his ground.

“Silence yourself and sit back down, _slave_ ,” Gardulla’s Majordomo sneers. 

Anakin realizes he’s being stupid and may very well get himself killed but can’t bring himself to care. He’s tired of being powerless. 

“ _E chu ta_ ,” he spits, the Huttese expletive imbued with the fierceness that roars within his chest like a Krayt dragon and the fury that burns with the heat of the Twin Suns. 

Shock resonates throughout the room from guards and slaves alike.

“Deal with this… _insolence_ however you see fit,” Gardulla growls to her Majordomo. At the man’s dismissive gesture, two different guards grab his chains and attempt to drag him off. He digs his heels in, gritting his teeth in an effort to remain unbending. But then someone shoves him from behind and stumbles forward, just barely remaining on his feet. 

He knows what’s about to happen. He _knows_ and he dreads it but wouldn’t take back what he did for anything. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin sees Obi-Wan’s horrified expression and is very grateful they didn’t punish him right there. 

* * *

They’re pulling and yanking and grabbing and scratching and it _hurts_ but it’s not like it’s anything new and maybe that’s what makes it worse.

That he’d thought he’d escaped this, that coming back here should be like opening old wounds—and it is, _Force_ it is—but at least on Tatooine, they don’t attempt to cover it up and call it something it’s _not_. It’s slavery, pure and simple. Not-not “ _diplomacy_ ” or “ _reparations_.”

Anakin is not sure whether he would’ve preferred to have been found by the Jedi or not, and he decides _that’s_ what makes it even worse. 

* * *

They don’t even bother to clean Anakin up before re-dressing him in his poor excuse for clothing and tossing him in a dark cell, battered and bleeding with nothing more than a thin, ratty blanket and a bucket. 

He crawls to the corner of the small cell and curls up under the thin blanket, shivering on the cold metal floor.

Disgust and shame swirl and writhe in his stomach and he wants nothing more than to disappear into nothing and just… not exist. 

Why isn’t he used to this by now? He’s endured worse, _much_ worse, and been humiliated in front and by many more people of much higher status. The _Chancellor of the Republic_ Requests him on a regular basis, both privately and for parties. Shouldn’t he feel nothing?

And yet the horror unfurls and rises and he barely makes it to the bucket before expelling what little he had in his stomach. He dry heaves and coughs, collapsing bonelessly next to the bucket as a whimper slips from his lips. 

Anakin _hates_ them and _hates_ this stupid kriffing planet and _hates_ the Chancellor and _hates_ the Jedi and _hates_ himself and _hates_ and **_hates_** and—

_Jedi do not hate._

He’s no Jedi. He’s nothing but a whore.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably tell from the chapter count, there will be one more chapter in this fic.  
> If this interests you, be sure to check out other fics in this ‘verse by some wonderful friends of mine in the server collection, as well as under the ["Jedi Indentured AU"](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Jedi%20Indentured%20AU) tag.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and/or kudos are always greatly appreciated!
> 
> Be sure to check out my [Tumblr](https://newdougsblog.tumblr.com/)!


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